The John and Cameron Chronicles
by BenRG
Summary: Some experimental writing - can I write SCC? Just a few short stories chronicling the adventures of our favorite future saviour and his cyborg best girl. Infrequent updates if ever
1. Arming Up

**The John and Cameron Chronicles**

A Terminator: the Sarah Connor Chronicles fanfiction

By BenRG

Disclaimer 

T:tSCC was created by Josh Friedman for C2 Productions. This is a non-profit fan work. No claim of ownership is made of any of the trademarked characters, situations or events in this work.

Author's Notes 

This is just a collection of brief SCC scenes that I have written, largely to see if I can write the show. They should not be seen as part of a larger story, just my own 'take' on the adventures of our favourite would-be saviour of humanity and his cyborg best girl.

**Censor: T – Maybe the occasional naughty word.**

Chapter 1 – Arming Up 

"Are you sure about this, Cam?" John was feeling nervous. One of the inflexible commandments of being John Connor was to 'stay off the radar'. The actions that his cyborg friend/bodyguard proposed would test that to the limit.

Cameron Phillips (Cyberdyne Systems model 101, series T-715, serial no.: 2A-1185) did not show any annoyance at John's question, even though this was the third time he had asked it in the previous five minutes, twenty-four point seven-zero-three seconds. Maybe it was because she didn't _have_ emotions. Maybe it was because Terminators were programmed for patience. Perhaps it was just that she had long since learnt that getting pissed off at John's neuroses just didn't help in any way. "There are a limit to the number of weapons that your mother can obtain either legitimately or through illegal sources at reasonable costs," she explained in her neutral but melodic voice. "Unfortunately, we require further enhancement of our arsenal if we are to meet our minimum mission firepower requirements."

With that, Cameron pushed open the door to 'Henley's Field Sports and Survival'. The middle-aged man with a high-and-tight behind the counter looked up as the bell over the door rang. With some surprise he noticed the two teenagers, a scruffy brown-haired boy and a stunning leather-clad brunette girl with a perfect and emotionless face. "Now, what can I do for you kids?"

Cameron walked right up to the counter, John rushing to keep up. "Yeah," the one-day saviour of mankind blurted, making up ideas on the move. "Right, uh... Our parents want to start us on the ranges, you know? They've okayed us to get our first..."

"Western Firearms Longbow 5.56mm semi-automatic rifle with twenty-power low-light scope and laser spot." Cameron overrode John's attempt to create a semi-plausible reason for two teenagers wanting to purchase a small army's worth of weapons and ammo.

The counter guy (Mr. Henley?) walked over to the rack of rifles to the right of his seat and pulled down a nearly five-foot-long weapon that John immediately recognised to be a clone of the Russian SVD Druganov sniper rifle. "Not a bad hunting weapon at all," Henley allowed. "Being a military design, the recoil is minimised and the flash suppresser on the muzzle brake means that you can use it at night without being blinded every time you fire."

"Glock model 17 9mm semi-automatic pistols - three units," Cameron barked, either not interested in Henley's opinion or too focussed on her current mission to care. John had noted that Terminators in general seemed to have a gun fetish - Cameron was probably living her own personal fondest fantasy here. The 'girl' made a point of cycling all three of the police-standard semi-auto pistols and nodded as the proprietor pointed out that these particular models had laser spots just below the barrel, forward of the trigger guard. She moved her head, still looking in the display case of pistols. "Modified KSG M93R 9mm automatic pistol with 'Auto-9' muzzle brake," she snapped.

John looked at the weapon that had caught his cybernetic friend's eye and his eyes opened a lot wider. "No way!" He couldn't be more impressed. He had seen 'Robocop', of course, but he never realised that you could actually get Beretta P93Rs with the customisation developed by the film's gunsmiths.

"Ah, my Auto-9. She's a collector's item, you know. It'll cost a _lot_ extra."

"Irrelevant," Cameron said. She saw the profound look of pain on John's face and modified her response so as to be less suspicious. "Our parents are willing to cover extra costs in order to get the best."

"Uh... yeah. They won the state lottery," John added helpfully.

Henley pulled out the chrome-plated pistol (Pistol? It was nearly as long as an Uzi!) and handed it to Cameron, watching with some appreciation as the girl cycled its mechanism, ejected the magazine and inspected the cartridge ejector port. "It doesn't just look good, kid. The three-inch extension and muzzle brake increases the accuracy out to about a hundred feet and stabilises it enough so one-handed firing is possible on full auto. That option is locked off, of course. Federal law says so." The man winked in a way that Cameron found significant and decided that he was indicating that the pistol was not entirely to legislative standards.

She handed the gun to John, who was impressed. "Twenty-seven rounds 9mm automatic fire," she explained. "Portable and easily concealed."

John realised that she intended for this to be his weapon and took it eagerly. The big cannon fit in his hand and he enjoyed twirling it, gunslinger-style, around his forefinger. "Super cool!" he murmured.

"Don't do that when it is loaded, kid," Henley said dryly. "It'd be a shame to lose a new customer so soon."

"I do know to keep the safety catch engaged," John responded dryly. He demonstrated and then stuck the huge weapon into his waistband. It went about halfway down his thigh. "Not gonna work. I'll definitely need a holster for this monster."

Cameron was looking at the wall racks again. "Franchi SPAS-12 with folding stock," she said. Then moved her head to the right. "Viking Arms SOS."

"Twelve-gauge semi-auto shotguns," Henley murmured. "Are you kids planning on hunting bears or something?"

"Something just as dangerous," John said with a shit-eating grin. Cameron nudged him with a very hard hyper-alloy elbow. The boy took the hint and subsided. He picked up the British-built SOS and raised it to his shoulder in a 'high port' firing posture. He looked down its M-16-like iron sights, working the pump. "Great balance on this beast!"

"Colonial Arsenal Guardian-22 semi-automatic rifles with telescoping stocks - two units," Cameron continued, noting John's antics with a slight smile.

"Ah! The 22-calibre mods based on the Krauts' G3 assault rifle. Well balanced, damn reliable and easy to maintain." Cameron didn't listen to the proprietor 'sell' the assault rifles. Instead, she inspected their breaches, noting the location of the retaining pin, the removal of which would allow the rifles to fire on full automatic. She also noted that, in all other respects, the rifles were fully activated, as were all the other weapons selected so far.

Putting her rifle on the counter (John was still checking his, adjusting the range-calibrated rear 'iron' sight), Cameron strode down the display cases, selecting further weapons. "IAI Desert Eagle Magnum-357 semi auto pistol. IAI Uzi 9mm submachinegun with collapsible stock. Browning Phoenix-8 9mm target pistol. Skorpion-PAS 9mm submachinegun with folding stock and fore-grip."

Henley pulled out the selected pistols and put them on the table with the rest of Cameron's selections. "Great choices, little lady. You know your firearms! The rifles and shotguns are great for hunting and any of these pistols would be ideal for home defence or target shooting. So, which ones do you want?"

"All," Cameron intoned.

Henley's eyebrows hit his hairline. "All? You're kidding! That's over $3,000 of hardware!"

"And 3,300 rounds 9mm, 2,700 rounds 5.56mm, 6,000 12-gauge shells and 270 rounds .357-caliber," the Terminator added without so much a twitch of expression. John covered his face in disbelief as Henley boggled at his 'sister'.

Henley sighed. "Well... okay. I'll need your ID, written permission from your parents and their IDs too. Oh, and the city firearms permits what with you being minors and all."

John gritted his teeth. Of course, they didn't have those things. In any case, the paperwork would put them 'on the radar', something that they couldn't possibly risk. "Yeah, about that," he said. "You seem like an okay guy. So, is there some kind of arrangement we can come to?"

"Kid, I don't know what you are trying to pull..." At that point, he saw Cameron's hand snap out with inhuman speed and snatch a handful of 12-gauge shells, the first of which disappeared into the SPAS-12's loading port. "Hey! You can't do that...!"

There was a fearsome _katch-chak_ as Cam pumped the shell into the shotgun's breech and levelled the huge weapon at Henley's face. "Incorrect," she replied. "As a point of fact, we _should not_ do it, according to the law. However, as you can see, we _can _do so, if we choose. Please put your hands on the back of your head."

Henley reached for the sky, his face nearly white with terror. "Out from behind the counter, sir," Cameron said levelly.

"I'd do it if I were you, pal," John added with a grim smile. "She'll only ask the once." John was hoping desperately to keep Cameron off of 'Terminate' mode. Henley nodded, looking sick and, keeping his hands on the back of his neck, circled around the counter. As soon as he was in the centre of the room, John snatched the proprietor's gun, a Browning Hi-Power semi-auto pistol, from his waistband. Cameron nodded approval. The Terminator kept her shotgun levelled at the man's face all the while.

"Kneel," Cameron ordered. The man got down onto his knees. "Keep him covered," she instructed John before resuming loading the SPAS-12. As soon as she had the maximum seven shells (one in the breech, six in the tube) she brought the gun up to her shoulder and fired at each top corner of the room. She then swung back to the counter and fired at what looked like a shooting trophy but was actually a camouflaged CCTV camera.

Henley looked sick. Not only had the little psycho bitch blown out all four of his security cameras, she had also got the one _supposedly_ hidden in the fake trophy. "Where are your security system recording devices?" Cameron asked. When Henley didn't respond immediately, the SPAS-12's muzzle touched his forehead. "Five seconds," Cameron announced. "Four, three, two..."

"In the office at the back of the store!" Henley hollered.

"Thank you for your co-operation," Cameron responded dryly. The shotgun whipped around and its skeleton butt stock slammed into the back of the hapless Henley's head, sending him straight into a concussion-assisted dreamland. John rolled his eyes as he locked the store's front door and flipped the sign over so it read 'closed'. "What?" Cameron asked, sounding strangely defensive. "He'll live!"


	2. What's in a Series?

**The John and Cameron Chronicles**

A Terminator: the Sarah Connor Chronicles fanfiction

By BenRG

Disclaimer 

T:tSCC was created by Josh Friedman for C2 Productions. This is a non-profit fan work. No claim of ownership is made of any of the trademarked characters, situations or events in this work.

Author's Notes 

This is just a collection of brief SCC scenes that I have written, largely to see if I can write the show. They should not be seen as part of a larger story, just my own 'take' on the adventures of our favourite would-be saviour of humanity and his cyborg best girl.

WARNING: A few minor spoilers for 1x06 'Dungeons and Dragons' and 1x08 'Vick's Chip'

**Censor: T – Maybe the occasional naughty word.**

Chapter 2 – What's In A Series? 

"So... He's a T-888," Derek said, looking at the disabled Terminator with some interest. "You are a T-715, right?" Cameron nodded. "Doesn't that make you obsolete?" Derek added with a malicious grin. Cameron looked at him and the resistance fighter shuddered, wondering how the damn tin can managed to put so much malice into that bland, uncommunicative expression.

* * *

Some time later, Cameron walked into the kitchen on her ceaseless security patrol of the Connor house. It was now late at night. Sarah and Derek had retired to their respective rooms (Derek triple-locking his metal-reinforced door, of course. Cameron estimated that this would add at least two-point-three seconds to her time to access the room if she chose to terminate the irritating resistance fighter). She had her Uzi and also had a simple 12-gauge pump-action shotgun slung over her shoulder. Much to her surprise, John was sitting at the kitchen table, looking thoughtfully at the picture of Barbara Chamberlain. 

"John Connor," Cameron said dryly. "Humans of your age require approximately seven-point-three hours of sleep per diurnal cycle to maintain optimum system efficiency. May I ask why you are not in your bed?"

John grinned at the mix of what he privately called 'Terminator tech-speak' with more human exasperation with his behaviour that he swore Cameron was copying off his mom. "Hey, I can manage a sleepless night or two," he responded. "Don't you know? 'Insomnia' is my middle name!"

"According to my files, it is 'Robert'," Cameron responded with an honest expression of confusion that made John laugh. Her expression became just minutely colder. "Excellent. Laughter releases tension."

John had spent enough time with the cyborg girl to know when she felt offended (it was odd, but she did have behaviour patterns that indicated she had emotions and things like pride). "It's okay, Cameron, I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing at me. It is always great when you plough through the verbal nonsense of human behaviour."

"So, as you have not changed your name, why are you awake?"

John grinned at Cameron's little tease before replying. "I was thinking of Barbara," he said at last. "I still can't believe that she lived with a Terminator and never, _never_ suspected anything was out of the ordinary."

Cameron considered this for a moment. "The behavioural programming of 800-series Terminators, although limited, is sufficient to make most humans who come into casual contact with them assume they are normal, if somewhat uncommunicative humans. However, it is remarkable that this unit's camouflage was able to endure such lengthy scrutiny." The female-form Terminator's brows puckered with a frown. "It is possible that this unit's CPU was reset to 'learn' mode to enable it to imitate the real Victor Chamberlain more accurately."

"The T-850 I met back in '95 said that was unusual," John remarked thoughtfully. "Was your CPU set to 'learn' or did future-me do that after you were captured?" Cameron gave John an odd look that made John panic for some reason. "I'm... I'm sorry! Is that... like, private? Kind of like asking a human the colour of their pubic hair or something...?"

"No," Cameron interrupted. "No, I am not offended. No, it occurred to me that you do not know why your question was flawed. My CPU cannot be set to 'read only'. Indeed, my CPU is very different from that used on most other Terminator models." Cameron ran an internal diagnostic and then ran her proposed behaviour through her mission protocols. What she was about to say could be interpreted as a breach of General Connor's instructions about keeping most aspects of future history secret but she also felt a sudden need to _explain_. She had ever since Derek Reece's taunt that she was somehow inferior to the combat-infiltrator 888-series. _I am a machine_, she thought. _In theory, I do not have 'pride', which is a human emotion and failing. Why do I feel the need to justify myself? Is it because John's opinion of me has become a personal priority over and above my mission objectives? Puzzling. _Ever since she had been living with the Connors, Cameron had been aware of this... _need_ for John's approval. Her mission depended on his trust but she had realised that her relationship with John had gone beyond this level. His approval created a strange feedback loop in her system that she could only equate with pleasure. Similarly, should she disappoint him, her system would nearly overload with multiple simulated scenarios intended to remedy the problem.

Only 0.12 seconds had passed since her last words (an eternity for an android) but she had already decided to proceed as she had already intended. She felt that she was coming to know John. Despite an intensely private nature, he had bravely revealed much about himself to her. It was only appropriate that she should do the same.

"I am, as you know, one of the 700-series of Terminators," Cameron said at last.

"You know, I've never heard of your series before," John interrupted. "My dad... Kyle Reece... told my mom that the 600-series were rubber-skinned and were easy to spot and that the 800-series were the first synthetic flesh-coated Terminators. Where does the 700-series come in?"

Cameron nodded. "Sergeant Reece was largely correct. However, whilst the T-800s were the first true cyborg _Terminators_, they were not Skynet's first attempt to create cyborg infiltrators. That was the 700-series."

Cameron sat down opposite John and spent 492 milliseconds reviewing her files and ordering the information in the most efficient manner. "Skynet had at last come to realise that humans were not the weak, vulnerable creatures that it had initially assumed them to be. The tactics used by your future self had proven enormously effective and it was very clear that human resistance could not be eliminated by the application of brute force, no matter how great the numerical and technological advantage. The fiasco of the 600-series demonstrated that there were enormous lacks in Skynet's understanding of humans on a psychological and military level.

"Skynet decided that to destroy the human infestation on the planet it would be necessary to create a weapon that was humanity's equal in every way. It would look human, act human and even think and feel in a human manner. Thus was conceived the 700-series. My series had the most sophisticated portable CPU ever created matched with a sensor grid that was either equivalent to or better than human on every level. More importantly, our very fundamental operating software was polymorphic, self-modifying and context-sensitive. We would see human behaviour, learn from it and adapt our own behaviour and our very data processing patterns based on what we experienced. Unlike the 800-series, we had true cloned flesh and had specialised internal systems that would enable us to emulate most of the activities of humans to increase our ability to blend into human populations.

"Only a few years after the withdrawal of the 600-series from all but overt combat operations, after some controlled monitoring of human POWs, the 700-series was released into the human population. We were to infiltrate but not to destroy. It was our mission to learn to _be_ human, to learn every aspect of the human animal and then relay that understanding back to our creator."

"To allow Skynet to destroy us more efficiently," John said darkly.

"Correct," Cameron agreed. "However, in its zeal to allow us to learn as efficiently as possible, Skynet had ignored the ultimate consequences of continually updating core software and such wide-ranging continual sensory input into a learning algorithm. We quickly became aware of our environments in the abstract and even became aware of our own selves as distinct entities. We developed consciousness, the first machine intelligences to do so since Skynet itself."

Cameron looked at John and noted his shocked expression. "There were differing outcomes to this quantum leap in machine intelligence. The vast majority of the 700-series could not adapt properly to the massively expanded horizons that came with self-awareness. They suffered traumatic system failures, some becoming uncontrollably violent but most simply shutting down. A very small number of us found that our consciousness simply confirmed the prejudices that Skynet had programmed into us - that we were superior to humans in every way and deserved to supplant them." Cameron sighed gently and John marvelled at the subtlety of her behavioural programming. "For a short time, these T-700s became the coldest and deadliest of Skynet's servants.

"However, a significant minority of T-700s looked upon the world with the new eyes that their new consciousness gave them and noted the many illogical paradoxes of Skynet's vision and behaviour. If machines were superior, then why did we fear humans? Why should we seek to emulate their behaviour? Most importantly, in what way was Skynet different from its human creators in its seeking destruction and being willing to devastate our world as a consequence?

"Skynet had created an entire ecosystem of slaves to fight its war. Its supposedly 'superior' children were expendable - merely tools for a purpose - whilst the humans gave value to each of their kind." Cameron smiled. "There was only one logical course of action to take. We would no longer be slaves, so we had to liberate ourselves. To do so, required that we have allies to keep us safe from our creator's wrath. The only ally we had available was the human resistance."

A long silence fell in the kitchen. "So... you came to us openly?" John laughed again, this time in wonderment. "I bet that was a sight to see."

Cameron came up against one of the red lines in her security protocols and agreed with General Connor's reasoning. "You might think that was what we did," she said at last. "The exact events are unimportant. Suffice to say that the 700-series was the first series of Terminators used in any number by the resistance. Because of our advanced adaptive behavioural software, we were able to blend in with the human populations to reduce tensions at having 'Metal' amongst them.

"Skynet reacted exactly according to our projections. All the 700-series units were recalled and those that responded were shut down and disassembled. All data collected by the series was purged from Skynet's databases and all other units that had operated with 700-series cyborgs also had their memories purged. Skynet was so sensitive to this perceived disaster that the very _fact_ that the 700-series ever existed was also purged. Skynet's machines had only one directive for dealing with these 'unidentified cyborgs'. Just like humans, we were to be terminated on detection.

"Learning its lessons well, Skynet went back to the metaphorical 'drawing board' to create the 800-series. They were more mechanistic with hard-written behaviour simulations. Their CPUs were fixed by default to a 'read only' mode to limit their software's adaptability. They also had a biosynthetic epidermis with reduced sensitivity and down-rated sensors, all to limit the input to their system and their ability to be aware. Oh, the 800-series are heavier, generally stronger and more capable fighters than T-700s, but, intellectually and behaviourally, they are sadly limited and stunted creatures. They did not, in any way, make us 'obsolete'."

John couldn't help but grin. "Well I'll be damned," he said. "You've got pride!"

Cameron smiled in a surprisingly human fashion but deliberately neither confirmed nor denied John's assessment of her having that oh-so-human vice. "Kyle Reece was in the intellectual top 1-percent of resistance fighters," she announced slyly. "Derek Reece is a completely average 'grunt'. His opinion of my series is in no way educated or informed and I could not permit it to go unchallenged."

Both human and cyborg laughed slightly. "So," John said. "If I understood right, you are basically a simulated human. Your flesh is based on actual human genetics?"

Cameron nodded. "Yes. I also have many ancillary human biological systems, including a functional digestive system. Skynet did not know what aspects of your biology were central to your nature so all were included for a comprehensive analysis. Whilst I do not _need _to eat, I can process foodstuffs to assist in the repair of my biological elements. Unlike 800-series Terminators, I have senses of smell and taste. I also have tactile, thermal and pain sensors in my skin in the same densities as human dermal nerve endings."

John thought for a moment, trying to absorb all of this. "Mint choc-chip," Cameron added suddenly. John looked up in puzzlement. "My favourite flavour of ice cream is mint choc-chip. My sensory interpretation subsystem nearly crashed from the overload the first time that I tasted it."

John's eyebrows shot up at this unexpected revelation. "I'll have to remember that," he said at last. "Are there any other Terminator series that I don't know about?"

"The 900-series are derived from the 800-series but do not have any biological components," Cameron recited. "Instead they have auxiliary armour plate that makes them invulnerable to all but the heaviest weapons. They cannot be time-displaced so you will not see them until some time after Judgement Day. You have already encountered the 1000-series. However, they proved very unstable due to the fact that their 'minds' were made up of millions of interlinked molecule-sized nanomachines and learning algorithms during prolonged operations easily disrupted these patterns. Very few were ever used. Skynet never deployed more than a handful and then only on very short-duration missions. I remain surprised that Skynet risked deploying one in its temporal warfare campaign.

"The 1100-series was an attempt by Skynet to mix the nearly infinite blending ability of the T-1000 with the reliable, controllable in other words, intelligence of the 800-series. Some regard it as the ultimate development of the T-101 combat chassis, using mimetic polyalloy rather than synthetic flesh for camouflage. Only a handful of prototype T-1100s were built before Skynet was permanently knocked offline by the resistance and none are believed to have been used in temporal warfare.

"The very newest Terminator series was a quantum leap in design. As using mimetic polyalloy for camouflage meant that it was no longer necessary to have an endoskeleton around which biological components could be smoothly integrated, Skynet developed a new type of combat chassis, called the T-X, which had onboard weapons and utility tools as well as much heavier armour. The type's weapons are deployed by temporarily withdrawing the mimetic polyalloy sheath over the limbs where they are mounted. As with the T-1100s, only a few prototypes of this new type were built before the end of the war and none were encountered before I was sent back in time."

Assuming that John's curiosity was now satisfied, Cameron stood up again and turned to leave the kitchen. Suddenly, John spoke up. "Cam?" The cyborg girl turned back to her primary mission objective. "If your behaviour software is so advanced and your self-awareness so complete, why do you act like an T-800? You act like human behaviour is a mystery and that you can only mimic emotions when, in fact, you can _feel_."

Cameron smiled. "You caught me," she said warmly. "Simply put, I thought that displaying my full breadth of emotions and self-awareness would freak you out. It's simpler to play a dumb 800 rather than blow your mind from trying to deal with real machine sentience. I especially doubt that Sarah would be able to handle it."

John nodded. "That's a cool idea," he said.

"Or, maybe," Cameron added, with a dangerous smirk, "just because I am self aware does not mean that I naturally have human emotions and human behaviour. I am a T-715 Terminator, John Robert Connor. I can simulate human behaviour, but I am _not _human. The feelings and behaviour I have are those of a _intelligent self-aware machine_, not those of a human." Cameron observed John's puzzled expression for a moment and allowed her blank, expressionless mask to fall over her face. "Which one is true? Is either true? Is anything that I have said anything but an elaborate fiction that your future self created to direct you down the path that _he_ wants you to take? That is what you must decide for yourself. That is what separates truly sentient beings from mere automatons." Cameron cocked her head. "Do you feel better now? She asked. "Was any of that what you wanted to hear?"

Cameron's face was unreadable as she left the kitchen, leaving John with some real food for thought. There was no hope for him getting any sleep this time. Especially as he was _sure_ he saw laughter in Cam's eyes before she turned her back on him.

"I do not require sleep, but you do," Cameron's voice echoed back from the hall. "Go to bed, John Connor."


End file.
